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The Canvas

There is something incredibly real yet magical when staring at a blank canvas. Knowing it will soon be filled with “happy accidents”. Not just from the paintbrush strokes alone but from the mind.

The emotions felt before the paint even hit the blank canvas, frustration had started. A few deep breaths and a sigh of release I freed my mind and just went for it.

I sat down after the initial color was placed… staring at the blurred color which hadn’t even been in my thoughts ,yet here it was staring me in the face. What the fuck am I going to do with this. I was dumbfounded with how many emotions raced over me with such a simple decision. So just like life I just moved forward and kept going.

With each new color or flick of my wrist a sense of control was shared. I wanted to let go of the need to make something beautiful, something that makes sense, what I think my art should be, and just feel myself in my moment.

Blaming base coats for being to thick, paints for being to thin, the lighting being to bright, the room being to cold or the tunes that are interrupted by a low WiFi signal were just a few things trying to make it to the canvas in a frustrating way.

Little by little the picture changed, and of course in a direction I was blinded to. The inportant part was…. I wasn’t going to walk away from something that I knew was me. Even in all the frustration and ridiculous thoughts, my art was sitting in from of me asking , “please see more”.

Life is one in the same. Shit happens. Colors like people and situations are painted upon our minds making its way onto our canvas’ of life. We have choices to make in which we should want more of ourselves.

Fear should not hinder the art. Do I see mistakes or choices I wish I could alter or change, maybe, but I worked through to find what was needed. Even turning the canvas in the direction it was calling me to feel it.